


In which the Castle has a little fun

by Overlord_Bethany



Series: blundering onward [6]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Multi, OT3, Post-Canon, parkour happens like the world's most terrible trust fall, the Jagergenerals too for a minute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11879376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: Tarvek contemplates his new life. Gil acts like Gil. Mistakes have been made.





	In which the Castle has a little fun

Roof tiles, coarse and cold, dug at his skin wherever his coat allowed it. This was fine. His gaze on the boundless sky, Tarvek listened to the faint reverberation of the Doom Bell beneath him. 

 It sang in the wind. That’s something nobody ever mentions, he realized. The same stiff breeze that tore at his hair and slipped beneath his collar made the great bell hum an ominous drone. Cheered by the sound, Mechanicsburg thrummed with midday bustle. Such a beautiful city. Only the sky witnessed Tarvek’s smile. 

 Home. How curious that the word burned within him, a comfort and a searing brand both. He belonged to Sturmhalten. He always would, but Mechanicsburg had brought him his first taste of true freedom. In Mechanicsburg he had become the person he had always wanted to be. In Mechanicsburg, no one wanted him to be perfect. Indeed, they laughed when he tried. His roots lay in Sturmhalten, but Mechanicsburg was truly home to him. 

 What ever would old Andronicus say to that? Tarvek scoffed. Something loud, no doubt.

 The breeze chased a few clouds across the sky, carried the dry fragrance of fallen leaves to his perch. Far across the hills, Castle Wulfenbach hulked near the horizon. A safe distance out of Mechanicsburg airspace, Tarvek noted with another smile. He kept an eye on it, halfheartedly watching for Gil’s latest ridiculous flying machine. He felt Gil’s absence, an ache in places that usually seemed so sensible, and it annoyed him. 

 A scraping on the masonry alerted him before a hot breath blew across the top of his head. He didn’t flinch. “Hey, kid,” Franz grumbled behind him. “Everyone’s looking for you." 

 "Define ‘everyone’.” Violetta would have found him ten minutes ago. 

 The dragon snorted uncomfortably close to Tarvek’s head. “The Heterodyne and the generals." 

 Not Gil, though. Tarvek glanced again toward Castle Wulfenbach. "I suppose it’s urgent?" 

 "Best not to keep the Heterodyne waiting." 

 Tarvek considered what Agatha might do to him if he made her wait. He thought about it perhaps a little too long, savoring the idea. "I could be lucky enough to enjoy whatever punishment she devises for me." 

 Franz chuckled. "You sure you’re not from around here?" 

 Rather a compliment, Tarvek thought. "I’m sure I would have noticed.” The roof tiles bit into his palms as he pushed himself upright. 

 "Get on with you,“ Franz growled, feigning displeasure. 

 "Or else you’ll drag me to your mistress?” His hands in his pockets, Tarvek meandered to the edge of the roof. The city sprawled out below him, a glow of contentment blanketing the streets. Franz seemed immune. 

 "You know how it goes.“ 

 Tarvek turned. With a smirk and a wink at the dragon, he stepped backward off the roof. 

 The wind whistled in his ears and snapped his coat like a flag, drowning out the drone of the bell as it whipped past. Eight seconds to impact. "CASTLE!" 

 Castle Heterodyne obliged him, tilting a panel outward from the face of the bell tower. The angle was perfect. Kicking off of it with all of his strength, Tarvek launched himself into the void between buildings. 

 For a breathless moment he soared, up, up, across a crowd of unwitting townspeople. Then gravity yanked him back downward, hurling him toward the next rooftop. He tucked his knees up, rolled on impact, and ran. 

 He leapt from the crest of the roof. Castle Heterodyne nudged a clothesline into his path. He caught it, launched himself farther. He sprang from wall to wall to windowsill to chimney, until at last he caught hold of one of the Torchmen. He spiralled around it from pedestal to pavement, burning out the last of his momentum. The people of Mechanicsburg carried on about their business as though well dressed gentlemen fell from the sky every week. Perhaps he should. 

 It surprised Tarvek that no one else mentioned Agatha or the generals to him. He had walked halfway up the hill to Castle Heterodyne before someone fell in step beside him. The Jäger had shown admirable restraint to wait so long. Unless the Castle had already told everyone that he was on his way? "Hello, Jorgi. They got you out looking for me, too?" 

 "No,” Jorgi scoffed. “Hyu does vat hyu vants. Hy dun care." 

 This was the nature of the game they played: false indifference covering mutual fondness. "Just going my way, then.” Comfortable lies, harmless and easy to forget. They walked the rest of the way up in silence, and once inside, Jorgi took the first corridor to the left without even waving farewell. Tarvek smiled. 

“You’re late,” Castle Heterodyne informed him. 

 "I had no appointment.“ 

 The Castle’s only reply was to hurry him through several walls to the council chamber. All of the generals had gathered, and Jenka whispered with Vanamonde in the far corner. She glanced up from their conversation, her gaze sharp, accusatory, as though she knew where Tarvek had been. Perhaps she did. 

 "You were in town?" 

 Agatha. Tarvek wanted to sweep her into his arms and kiss her breathless, but he settled for lifting each of her hands to his lips. "Yes. Franz came to fetch me.” He felt a tension in the room. “This isn’t their usual monthly meeting, is it?”  

Jenka prowled across the room, pausing to murmur a few words to General Zog, and again to slip a note to Agatha. On her way out the door, she cast one more glance toward Tarvek, a look that said she would enjoy breaking him in interesting ways, if the Heterodyne did not have prior claim to him. Tarvek watched until the door had latched, and then he said to Agatha, “I feel like she wants to make me uncomfortable." 

 "Who, Jenka?” Agatha slipped one hand into the crook of his elbow. “She wishes she could recruit you, but you belong to me." 

 Tarvek nodded as he considered this new information. That the head of the Mechanicsburg Diplomatic Corps and rightful bearer of a personal grudge against the man might recruit a descendant of Andronicus Valois struck him as odd, but only as odd as his own sense of belonging in this place. "Maybe she could stop looking as though she wants to pull my fingers apart one joint at a time." 

 "Maybe five years from now.” Agatha slanted a meaningful look at him. You WILL still be here five years from now? Tarvek covered her hand with his. Always. 

 Vanamonde called the meeting to order, and then fled, as was customary. Tarvek looked a question at Agatha: Gil? She shook her head. 

 For a while, the generals discussed the usual business: defenses, potential threats, and the endless minutiae of managing a Jägerhorde. Tarvek watched them with a growing uneasiness. He liked the generals well enough, and they honored him by including him in most discussions of strategy, but he loved and hated these meetings in equal measure. These Jägers spoke a political language from long before his time. On a lucky day, he could nudge them in directions they already leaned, but he held all the influence of a clever child in their midst. At every meeting he learned a little more, but in the meantime, his ignorance terrified him. 

 On the other hand, the inevitable brawl was always fun to watch. 

 Zog, Goomblast, and Khrizhan grew steadily more agitated as the meeting progressed through a series of rather mundane topics. A glance toward Agatha confirmed that she had also noticed, and she watched them with obvious concern. At last, Goomblast had had enough. He slammed his hand down on the table and demanded, “Ven vil ve find our missink brodders?" 

 Gkika rolled her eyes at the interruption. Funny how such small things always seemed to trigger the brawl. In moments, Zog had thrown a chair, and the Castle had removed Tarvek and Agatha to a safer distance. 

 Agatha worried for the missing Jägers, he knew. After the war, a census of the Jägerhorde had come up about sixty Jägers short. No one had seen or heard from them since shortly before the Battle of Mechanicsburg. Too long. Tarvek would have given them up for lost, but he admired Agatha for not doing so. He moved a little closer to her side, caught hold of her hand, and interlaced their fingers. She squeezed his hand and gave him an appreciative smile. 

 The discussion continued throughout the brawl, carrying on with growls, gestures, and projectiles much more than words. It had taken Tarvek a few tries to learn how to follow the dialogue, and still he missed much every time he glanced away. He knew he could develop the skill. He just needed more practice. In this case, however, it hardly mattered who won the debate. The generals would yield to the will of the Heterodyne. 

 Across the room, Dimo caught his eye. The green Jäger stood silent, a little removed from the fray. Tarvek suspected that of everyone in the council chamber, only he and Dimo already knew Agatha’s decision. As much as it pained her not to know the fate of those lost Jägers, she would not act without reliable intelligence. So long as they knew nothing, nothing would be done. Tarvek glanced away from the brawl again, toward Agatha. What information had Jenka passed to her? 

 The door burst open, and all the Jägers paused to turn and look. Freshly disheveled from flying, Gil bounded into the room. "I’ve got it!” he crowed. Oblivious to raised fists and broken furniture, he thrust a stack of documents at the nearest general. The papers slapped against Zog’s chest. Gil leapt from Jäger to Jäger, distributing copies of his documents. 

 Khrizhan’s face relaxed from a snarl as he read the pages Gil had shoved into his hands. “Yez, hy tink hyu does." 

 Tarvek dragged one hand down his face. "I hate when he does this." 

 "Does what?” Agatha narrowed her eyes at him. “Helps?" 

 "It’s not the helping.” Tarvek shook his head as Gil bounded their direction. “It’s Whirlwind Wulfenbach, making a showy entrance and then commanding everyone’s attention with nothing more than energy and enthusiasm. I don’t think he even knows he does it." 

 "It’s cute, though." 

 "Sure, it’s cute. The first four hundred times you see it.” Tarvek sighed. It was still cute. “But then you notice how everyone always credits him with saving the day, when at best he’s contributed forty percent of the effort. Land on the roof again, did you?" 

 "Yeah. You’re looking dour.” Grinning, Gil handed the last of his papers to Agatha. 

 Tarvek shook his head in a show of disapproval. “You know the Castle hates it when you do that.” At least someone else was equally annoyed with Gil’s antics. 

 "You… you really did it!“ Agatha threw her arms around Gil and kissed him. 

Tarvek rolled his eyes. "Agatha, you’re proving my point,” he grumbled. 

 "Huh,“ Gkika muttered. "Vy vould he send dem so far avay?" 

 Tarvek plucked the papers from Agatha’s hand and skimmed them. Deployment records, written in Boris’ tight, precise penmanship. He checked the dates. Oh. Sturmhalten. "Klaus knew he couldn’t rely on the Jägers any more,” he said, setting Gil up to contradict him. 

 "Ja, efferyvun knows dot.“ 

 Gil looked appropriately guilty. "It’s more than that.” He sighed. “My father thought if the entire Jägerhorde returned to Mechanicsburg at once, panic would spread throughout Europa. Dispersal was…” He gave a helpless shrug. “Damage control." 

 Agatha’s jaw set in a firm line of controlled anger. "You knew about this?" 

Perhaps it had been a little mean to make Gil explain. 

 The Jägers had all stilled. They watched raptly, awaiting their Heterodyne’s will. They liked Gil, but they would not hesitate to destroy him if Agatha wished it. Really, he could say the same of anyone in her inner circle. Tarvek glanced from them to Gil, who had paled, but did not shrink from Agatha’s wrath. 

 "I knew about the deployment. I had no idea they hadn’t returned.” He wavered. “I… I should have…" 

 "Don’t be absurd,” Tarvek interrupted. “You were dealing with far too much at the time." 

 Agatha clenched and unclenched her fists several times. "I want my Jägers brought home.” Almost defiant, she watched Gil’s expression. He nodded. 

 "Ve vill send—" 

 "Maxim.“ Every eye in the room turned to Tarvek. Agatha’s face clouded with betrayal, but he could see Dimo nodding. "He knows his way in the world. He’s fit for the long journey, and he has the temperament for this kind of work." 

 Gil caught him by the elbow. "I didn’t ask you to get yourself in trouble for me,” he hissed. 

 "I’m serious,“ Tarvek whispered back, watching as the generals debated his suggestion. Maxim might not be as clever as Dimo, but he was adaptable. He would do well leading the retrieval effort. 

 Agatha glared at them both. "How could you?" 

 "Agatha, you know he’s the best choice for the job.” Except for Dimo, but Tarvek certainly wouldn’t say so. Not now. 

 "He’ll be gone for months—" 

 "Two weeks,“ Gil corrected. When Agatha stared at him, he shrugged. "Did you think I wouldn’t lend my fastest ships to the cause?" 

 Agatha looked like she wanted to kiss him again, but she held her ground. "Fine.” She turned back to observing the generals. They had agreed on Maxim for leading the retrieval party, and now they argued who else to send. 

 Well done, Wulfenbach. 

 They watched the meeting in silence for a few minutes. Then Gil said, “I wonder if Oggie will volunteer to go?" 

 Tarvek’s heart sank. Oh, Gil. 

 "Castle!” Agatha snapped. “Get these two idiots out of my sight!" 

 "With pleasure, Mistress." 

 "I’m not the idiot here!” Tarvek objected as the floor opened beneath them. 

They dropped straight down for about a meter and a half before the Castle angled the tunnel just enough to break their fall. They tumbled into an unused lab, Tarvek landing atop Gil in a graceless heap. He stayed there a moment longer than necessary, listening as Gil’s heartbeat slowed from alarm to normal.  

“You ARE an idiot.” Gil shoved him aside and stood up. “What were you thinking, sending one of Agatha’s favorite Jägers away?" 

 "How many times do I have to say he’s the best Jäger for the job?” Tarvek sighed and shook his head at Gil’s disheveled state. “What did you do, climb in through the tiniest window you could find?” He gave in at last to the urge to straighten Gil’s clothing and smooth his hair. Gil met his gaze for a moment before glancing away. 

 "Well, the Castle—" 

 "Hates it when you land on the roof.“ Tarvek grinned at the thought of Castle Heterodyne locking Gil out of all but the smallest of windows. 

 "Speaking of your apparatus,” Castle Heterodyne said, “I’ve moved it." 

 "Where is it?” Gil yelped. Tarvek snickered. 

 "Probably walled up somewhere.“ 

 "It’s on an adjacent rooftop.” The Castle’s tone made Tarvek imagine it puffing up its roof tiles like a gigantic offended bird. He smiled at the thought. 

 Gil sighed. “You’re not going to say which one, are you?" 

 "Now what would be the fun in that?" 

 Tarvek couldn’t really say why he decided to follow Gil up to the roof. He had plenty of work to do, and if he insisted on shirking, he could spend the rest of the afternoon training or studying or anything else but walking up staircases a step behind Gil, admiring the view. He had behaved like a lovestruck child ever since Gil’s drunken babbling the week before, and he hated it. I need you, Gil had said, and Tarvek blushed a little at the memory. Asinine. It was ridiculous and irrational to pine for someone who was already his. 

 Almost as ridiculous as wanting to sob with relief every time Gil returned from an excursion whole and healthy. 

 Tarvek glared down at the steps for a while. He had a fresh impression of Gil’s teeth on his shoulder, purple-black and a little tender to the touch. A bruise in the shape of Gil’s thumb had just faded from the inside of his elbow. The scratches on his back—well, those might be from Agatha. He didn’t really remember. He enjoyed the marks left on his body, the physical evidence that he belonged here, belonged to the people he loved. But this? Trailing after Gil for scraps of attention made him angry at himself. Almost as angry as the realization that he enjoyed the taste of absinthe on Gil’s lips. 

 Gil stopped abruptly enough that Tarvek bumped into him. "You’re too quiet. Are you scheming?" 

 Tarvek steadied himself with one hand on Gil and the other on the wall. "Why would I admit to it if I were?” He shook his head in mock disapproval. 

 "I don’t know. Maybe you kind of trust me.“ With a shrug, Gil resumed the climb. Tarvek stumbled after him. 

 "Absurd,” he said. “You know I don’t trust people.” But he did, and it made him stupidly warm on the inside that Gil had mentioned it. 

 "You trust ME.“ 

 Tarvek rolled his eyes at the Castle. "You have a use for me. Besides, Agatha would do unspeakable things to you if you harmed either one of us.” But the Castle’s preening had killed the conversation. He gave the walls a suspicious glance. 

 At the next landing, Gil hurried to a small window and peered outside. “Aha!” he crowed. “I see what you’ve done! You've—” His voice faltered, and he stepped back to address the Castle more properly. “You’ve made a landing platform." 

 Tarvek nudged Gil aside to peer out the window. Castle Heterodyne had flattened the top of one of its towers to make a landing space for Gil. But something was missing. "Unless there’s a hatch I can’t see from here, you’ve neglected to add an access point." 

 The Castle chuckled. "You both do love to climb,” it said, causing Gil to arch an eyebrow at Tarvek. 

 Castle Heterodyne, he thought, you’ve got a big mouth. 

 "Come on, Gil.“ Seizing him by the hand, Tarvek marched them back down the stairs. "We’re going to find a way onto that platform." 

 Gil allowed himself to be dragged down three flights of stairs and across to the tower before he took his hand back. Tarvek kept his gaze fixed ahead of them. Don’t think about it, he told himself, and for heaven’s sake, don’t blush. 

 "You…” Gil rubbed at the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to defend me." 

 "I didn’t,” Tarvek replied, momentarily confused. Did he mean to the Castle, or before that? 

 "You did.“ Gil looked anywhere but at Tarvek. "You said it wasn’t my fault about the Jägers." 

 "Well, it’s not.” Out of the corner of his eye, Tarvek watched Gil’s discomfort increasing. He actually fidgeted. 

 "Well…" 

 "Oh my, I do believe he’s trying to thank you.“ 

 "Castle,” Tarvek said. “Do you remember that conversation we had about personal space?" 

 "No,” Castle Heterodyne lied. 

 "See, this is precisely why I asked Agatha to make my bedroom a dead zone.“ 

"You are no fun at all,” the Castle grumbled. Tarvek smirked. 

 Awkwardness forgotten for the moment, Gil turned wide eyes toward him. “You did? Did she do it?" 

 "Of course." 

"Huh.” Gil chewed on his lower lip. “I never thought of that." 

 Tarvek grinned at him. "That’s because you are far too comfortable with dangerous creatures in your bedroom." 

 They locked gazes, and Tarvek felt his careful self control withering. "Really?” Gil’s eyebrows arched meaningfully. “Which dangerous creatures should I allow?" 

 Tarvek felt the color rising in his cheeks, but he could do nothing to stop it. He could only maintain defiant eye contact until Gil also blushed and looked away. Good. They could suffer together. But when could he start to breathe again? 

"Right,” Gil said, clearing his throat. 

 "Right.“ Tarvek didn’t make a habit of agreeing insensibly, but just this once he could make an exception. He wanted to reach for Gil’s hand again. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

 "It’s easy,” Castle Heterodyne goaded. “It goes T-H-A-N-K—" 

 "Enough,” Gil snapped. “I don’t need lessons in social interaction from CASTLE HETERODYNE." 

 "Um…” Tarvek fought against his instinct to argue. The Castle did it for him. 

“Yes, you do." 

 Gil stomped on ahead, which seemed rather silly when arguing with the Castle. Tarvek shook his head at them both. "Gil, I love you, but sometimes you do need help.” Wait, no. Why did he have to say that? 

 Gil froze. Tarvek stopped just a step below him, trying to read the tension in his shoulders. Please don’t overreact… 

 "Say it again.“ 

 Gil sounded breathless, hopeful and astonished at the same time. Tarvek battled his inclination to dodge the issue. Gil needed him. He’d said as much, and Tarvek knew how it felt to want to hear those beautiful words again. "That you need help?" 

 Dammit. 

 "He meant the other bit." 

 Thank YOU, Castle Heterodyne. 

 "Gil, I…” The words stuck somehow, refusing to come out. For too many years, he had protected Gil with his silence. 

 "It’s easy. It goes I L-O—" 

“CASTLE!” Tarvek snapped. “I will tell Agatha." 

 "Spoilsport." 

 Tarvek reached up and smoothed the fabric across Gil’s back. He could pretend his hands weren’t trembling. "I…” Still nothing. “I know I’ve mentioned before…" 

 Gil pulled away from him. "It’s not the same." 

 No, of course it wasn’t. Confessing one’s feelings in the throes of passion couldn’t compare to— 

 "You said it… casually.” Gil had one foot on the next step up now. “Like it’s commonplace." 

 A flash of anger burned through him before he could squash it. Gil deserved to be loved, deserved to be cherished and shown affection every day. "Of course it’s commonplace, you idiot. I’ve always loved you!” Yes, there it was, the brutal truth, suffocating him by stages now that it lay out in the open. 

 Gil peered over his shoulder, eyes wide in bemused hope. “Always?” He barely gave the word any voice. 

 Whatever you do, Tarvek told himself, don’t cry. “I don't…” His voice sounded coarse and dry. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t really remember a time I didn’t. Even when I was too young to understand what I was feeling.” His instincts screamed at him to retreat, but he had already said too much. He held his ground, watching Gil’s reaction. 

 "Always…" Gil said again, more wondering this time. He turned, and his hands lifted a little, as though to reach for Tarvek. He didn’t. “In Paris…?" 

 Tarvek almost laughed, which would have been absurd. "Our years in Paris were the most exquisite torture. I couldn’t stop loving you—no matter how I tried—you wanted nothing to do with me, you were ALWAYS THERE, and I really couldn’t let my family catch on that I cared about you.” Well. He hadn’t quite meant to explain all of that. He probably deserved it for forcing that explanation from Gil earlier. 

 "You tried to stop?“ 

 Of course Gil would focus on that part. "You can’t be surprised that I did. You made it pretty clear you had no interest in trying to patch up our friendship." 

"I…” Gil looked guilty. “I did, didn’t I?" 

 The step Gil stood on tilted to a forty-five degree angle. He stumbled and slid toward Tarvek. 

 Thank you, Castle. 

 Gil only just managed to avoid a collision. Tarvek caught him by both hands, steadying him. Might as well… 

 He meant for the kiss to be brief, soft and warm. He meant to maintain control. After a tiny squeak of surprise, however, Gil kissed him harder. Yes, fine. Good. Tarvek let himself get caught up in the moment. This one kiss was long overdue. He guided Gil’s hands to his waist, buried both of his hands in Gil’s hair, and allowed himself to feel the years of joy and pain and desire and loss that weighed them down. It ached like old wounds, but it tasted so sweet. 

"Tarvek…?” Gil broke away from the kiss and reached up to dry the tears on Tarvek’s cheeks. Tears? Right, crying then. 

 Tarvek laughed as he buried his face against Gil’s shoulder. “Don’t look at me.” What a silly thing to say. Gil had seen him at some of his worst moments, far worse than a few stray tears of emotional overload. 

 Gil held him and stroked his hair in that sweet, awkward Gil way. Tarvek bit the inside of his cheek to hold back fresh tears. Crying would help nothing. He just needed a moment to collect himself. He needed to regain control. He wanted to stay right where he was for an hour or two. 

 "Tarvek?“ Gil’s voice carried a note of concern. With deepest reluctance, Tarvek pushed back from the embrace. 

 "I’m fine. I am.” He scrubbed away the last of his tears. “I was a little overwhelmed for a minute, but it’s passed." 

 "Oh. Um…" 

 Tarvek gave Gil a sharp glance. "Don’t you dare say something stupid." 

 Gil looked flustered. "Should I… should I not have kissed—" 

 Tarvek’s hand flew up to cover Gil’s mouth. "If you finish that question, I might have to kill you.” Of course Gil would find a way to make a healthy catharsis something he needed to blame himself about. The man needed a map and a compass to navigate even the simplest of emotions. 

 The Castle, Tarvek realized, had moved them nearly to the top of the tower. Had they really provided such good entertainment for it? He took Gil by the hand and led him the rest of the way up. The ceiling above them showed no point of access. 

 "Castle,“ he said, "no hatch?” He hadn’t expected one, but it didn’t hurt to play along. 

 The Castle chuckled. “That wouldn’t be any FUN." 

 Gil had already opened a window. He leaned out, peering around for handholds. Tarvek nudged him aside and hoisted himself onto the windowsill. The Castle wasn’t hiding handholds, but it wasn’t helping either. He stood up on the windowsill and, rising onto his toes, he reached for the buttressing above him. 

 "Careful,” Gil hissed through his teeth. How cute. Tarvek found a good grip on the stone, and he scrambled upward over the face of the tower. Wrapping his legs around a gargoyle waterspout, he hung upside down, his hands stretched toward Gil. 

 "Come on.“ 

 Gil took his hands without hesitation. Absolute trust. Feeling warmed on the inside, Tarvek hoisted him up to the eaves. Together, they climbed up onto the platform. 

 Tarvek leaned back on his elbows, his feet dangling off the edge of the platform. Gil sprinted for his flying machine, probably to check for damage. Tarvek smiled. 

 "Thank you,” he murmured. 

 The Castle made a small noise of satisfaction. “Such good boys." 

 "You used to say that when we were punching each other." 

 "The punching is also good entertainment,” the Castle replied, sounding a faintly wistful. 

 Tarvek climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. “You old voyeur.” But he smiled a fond smile as he meandered toward the flying machine. 

 Gil had opened several panels, one of which contained an assortment of tools. Without looking up, he handed a hex wrench and a flathead screwdriver to Tarvek. “I think the tension in those wing joints has gone a bit off. Would you adjust them? The proper settings are marked on the underside of the wing." 

Tarvek failed at holding back a grin. "Marked on the underside of the wing?” he repeated, delighted by Gil being Gil. 

 "Just…" Already shoulder-deep in the engine compartment, Gil paused to wave a spanner at him. “Just make the adjustments." 

 Tarvek got to work. The wind sang in his ears, and Gil muttered to himself, and Tarvek resisted a powerful desire to rebuild the wing joints entirely. The way Gil liked to fly, altering the machine without telling him would probably get him killed. Tarvek felt a little airsick just thinking about it. 

 "Are you done over there?" 

 At Gil’s imperious tone, Tarvek gave another thought to rebuilding those wing joints. Instead, he walked around to the open engine compartment. Gil handed him a flywheel, two belts, and a fistful of bolts. "Are you rebuilding the engine?" 

"No, I just want to adjust…” His words lost themselves somewhere in the engine. Tarvek patiently held tools for him and handed back bits of machinery as Gil worked his way out of the infernal contraption. 

 "You sure this thing will fly?“ 

 His eyes bright with excitement and burning with the Spark, Gil slammed the engine compartment closed. "Come with me.” He caught at Tarvek’s hands. “Fly with me." 

 For a moment, he was tempted. He thought of the rushing wind, the tight turns forcing him against Gil’s side. Then he thought of the tight turns and the sudden drops, and he felt a little sick. He was already shaking his head. "No. I…” I can’t. 

 Gil smiled at him. “I know. You hate it.” He gave Tarvek’s hands a squeeze, and then he climbed up into the cockpit. He surveyed the town below, watching the way the afternoon shadows stretched across the streets and buildings. Leaning his elbows on the fuselage, he grinned at Tarvek. “Want to watch me taunt the Torchmen?" 

 "If Agatha catches you doing that, you’re going to be in worse trouble with her.” But he couldn’t manage not to smile. 

 Gil’s grin grew brighter, more ferocious. “I’d better not get caught." 

 "Idiot.” Tarvek tugged him down for a swift kiss. He could taste Gil’s eagerness. “Don’t.” Another kiss. “Crash." 

 Gil pressed their foreheads together and held Tarvek there for a moment. "After all we’ve been through,” he murmured, “you think the Torchmen can bring me down?" 

 "Not really. I’m more concerned about hubris." 

 Gil laughed a mad, joyful laugh. Tarvek stepped back as the machine’s engine roared to life. In moments, Gil’s flying machine soared away toward the setting sun. So dramatic. 

 Tarvek sat down at the edge of the platform again. As he watched, Gil darted between buildings and skimmed low over the Dyne. The people of Mechanicsburg would surely wave at him as he flew by. Tarvek had almost lost him against the darkening city when the first Torchman blazed to life. One by one they lit up and gave chase. Tarvek smiled, thinking how he would have to get Gil cleaned up and presentable for Agatha when he returned. That fun would come later. For now, he could enjoy the wild dance as dozens of lights chased Gil through and above the city. 

 "He’s going to be SO SURPRISED when they don’t chase him any more." 

 The Castle’s gleeful words startled a laugh from Tarvek. "Promise me you’ll let me see this momentous event." 

 "Of course,” Castle Heterodyne purred, and Tarvek didn’t trust it, not at all. His eyes following the lights dancing in the dusk, he smiled. 

 Home. It was a good place to be.


End file.
